


But By Degrees

by solitaryjo



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Hurt Than Comfort Though, Physical and Sexual abuse (implied), Prison, Scars, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitaryjo/pseuds/solitaryjo
Summary: What wound did ever heal but by degrees?  (Othello: Act II, Scene 3)





	

The fire blazed in the hearth, its faint crackling all but drowned out by the pounding rain in the yard outside. They were alone in the room now. The Duchess had made a swift exit after Archie had started rambling on about crowns and garlands and visiting moons. She'd claimed he was delirious and the words meant nothing but Horatio was positive he'd heard them spoken before, he just couldn't place them.

There was no time to wonder about that now though. He berated himself over and over - for failing to notice Archie's deteriorating condition, for paying more attention to a woman he barely knew than to the man whose fate he had helped to seal during the cutting out of the _Papillon_ , for ignoring the warning signs in Hunter's eyes whenever he caught him looking in Archie's direction.

"Why did you do this?" he repeated softly, but he already knew the answer.

The door opened and a guard entered with a bundle of linen under his arm, unrolling it to reveal a dry shirt and a small towel. He placed them on the end of the bed, muttering something in Spanish that Horatio took to be along the lines of 'Compliments of Don Massaredo' and backed out of the room with an apologetic look that suggested he didn't expect his services to be required for much longer.

Horatio perched on the edge of the bed next to the recumbent figure, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he resisted the temptation to reach out and put a hand on Archie's shoulder for fear of causing him to retreat even further into whatever darkness had gripped his soul.

"Can you sit up, Archie? We need to get you dry or you'll catch your death."

Archie opened his eyes and stared at him with incredulity.

"That was the general idea," he muttered as he held on to Horatio's arm to pull himself up into a sitting position, "but as you seem determined to postpone the inevitable, I suppose I might as well make myself comfortable."

Trying to ignore the implications of Archie's words, Horatio set about wringing the water out of his hair with the towel and once he had got it as dry as possible he turned his attention to the sopping shirt.

"No!" Archie pushed Horatio's hands away, insisting that he could manage by himself. However, despite his best efforts, it soon became evident that he was too weak to even lift his arms above his head, never mind remove the offending garment, and Horatio's "Please, Archie. Let me help" was met with a grunt of acquiescence.

He lifted the back of the shirt to pull it forward over Archie's head and let out a horrified gasp, unable to hide his dismay at the sight that greeted him.

"Dear God!" he exclaimed, "What have they done to you?"

The pale skin was embossed with a map of torture and suffering. There was the unmistakable signature of the cat across Archie's broad but painfully thin shoulders, wider stripes lower down that must have been inflicted with a heavier and more rigid instrument, circular welts that could not have been anything other than cigar burns, and other ragged-edged marks whose provenance Horatio did not even want to guess at.

Without thinking, he ran the tip of his finger over a ridge of raised tissue between the prominent shoulder blades.

Archie flinched and pulled away from his touch, his eyes - suddenly alert and wide with fear - darted from side to side as if to seek out the nearest escape route.

Horatio snatched his hand away.

"Oh God, Archie. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

His mind suddenly returned to their days on the _Justinian,_ remembering how the young midshipman had always kept his back out of sight when he undressed and how the others had teased him for his reluctance to bare his skin to the sun.

Although many of the scars were the remnants of wounds inflicted during Archie's recent imprisonment, some of the marks must have been there for a lot longer.

Archie shook his head and blinked several times to dislodge the dark vision that had superimposed itself on his current reality.

"It's alright Horatio. It's not your fault."

He attempted a conciliatory smile, but as he leant forward to pick up the dry shirt, the movement revealed another mark at the base of his spine that made Horatio's blood run cold. It was small but distinct. Two letters standing out in an ugly deep purple against the waxy flesh.

J.S.

Horatio felt the bile rising in his throat. He averted his eyes but it was too late, it could not be unseen.

He knew Simpson used to beat Archie and he'd heard rumours about the other things he did but he'd never imagined anything like this. That a man would carve his initials into a boy's body, branding him for life to satisfy his own deviant nature and his twisted desire for control and domination. This was pure evil.

He wanted to say something, anything, to banish the hurt and shame that he saw in those once-sparkling blue eyes but he could not find the words.

Archie pulled the shirt down to cover the mark and turned away, curling in on himself as he lay facing the fire.

\----------

As the days passed, Horatio tried to forget. He told himself that the only matter of any importance was getting Archie to eat and drink and there was no point making things worse by bringing up the ghosts of the past. Besides, he wasn't even sure how much the other man remembered - he had been so close to death that day, perhaps he didn't recall what had happened.

His hopes were dashed one afternoon when he returned to the room to find Archie kneeling in front of the fire, its flickering light playing over his bare skin. He had a poker in his hand and the end was glowing red hot as he twisted his body to position it over the letters on his back.

Horatio covered the distance between them in a single stride and fell to his knees at Archie's side, snatching the poker from his grasp and cursing whatever idiot had thought it a good idea to leave a potential weapon lying around in a prison.

"What the Hell are you doing?"

He was taken aback when Archie responded with a terse "What does it look like?"

Horatio modulated his voice and tried to remain calm.

"Don't you remember what I told you? He's dead, Archie. It's over. You don't have to do this."

Archie gave a bitter laugh. "That's easy for you to say, Horatio." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to let you down, really I don't. I want to get better, but you're wrong. It's not over. I cannot go on for one day more with his mark upon me."

"There must be another way. I do not wish you to suffer any more pain."

"No. This is the only way. I cannot live like this. How will I ever be rid of him if I am reminded of his crimes every time I reveal myself to another and see the unspoken questions in their eyes?"

"Surely if you are with someone who loves you, they will understand."

Horatio regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He didn't have much experience of such matters but he knew that discovering a lover's body had been desecrated in that way would make him wonder what other wounds lay beneath the surface.

As if reading his mind, Archie lowered his eyes and whispered with quiet desperation, "What about you, Horatio? What if it were you making love to me? Could you so easily ignore such vile images as this would conjure in your mind?"

Horatio's first thought was that Archie must still be delirious to even consider such a notion, never mind give voice to it. And yet the suggestion did not horrify or disgust him as it would have if it had come from anybody else's mouth. In fact, he realised it was precisely what he'd been thinking of when he'd made his clumsy attempt at reassurance.

He swallowed and licked his lips, recognising that he had to speak the truth if there was even the slightest chance it could help to change his friend's mind and give him a reason to live.

"If it were me, Archie, nothing would come between us. Not even that."

Archie gazed at him in astonishment for a moment before a shadow crossed his brow.

"I wish I could believe that."

He picked up the poker and plunged it back into the flames.

Horatio froze. Every instinct told him to intervene but all he could do was watch as Archie lifted the glowing point from the fire and held it above the hateful mark.

And then, as if from a great distance, he heard his own voice saying, "Let me do it."

Archie paused.

"Oh, Horatio. I know you are trying to help, but you do not understand. This is something I must do for myself. I will always regret that I lacked the strength to stand up to him while he was alive. At least let me have this."

He raised his other hand to Horatio's face and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall.

"Besides, you already carry enough guilt to sink the Channel Fleet for the harm you believe you have done me. I would not wish to increase that burden."

He tightened his grip on the poker until his knuckles turned white and took a deep breath to prepare for the pain. There was a fierce determination in the set of his jaw but his eyes told a different story: _Help me?_

Horatio wrapped his long fingers gently around Archie's trembling hand.

"We'll do it together."

The hot metal made contact and he almost gagged as his nostrils were filled with the stench of burning flesh.

Archie's whole body tensed and his teeth drew beads of blood from his lower lip but he didn't make a sound and Horatio once again marvelled at his friend's courage. He knew it would take a lot more than this token gesture for the other man to truly begin healing but at least it was a step in the right direction.

He forced himself to look down at the angry weal that had obliterated the old scars.

"It's done."

Archie collapsed against his chest, his breath slowing and the tremors easing as Horatio gently stroked his hair and wiped the sweat from his brow.

When they got to their feet and Horatio reached out to steady him, he took the proffered hand with no hesitation, reluctant to relinquish his grip even once he reached the safety of the bed.

"Stay?"

Horatio sat down next to him and gave his hand a squeeze.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He was rewarded with a tentative but genuine smile and the words he'd been longing to hear since the day he arrived in this godforsaken place.

"I'm glad you found me."

Horatio swallowed the lump in his throat and moved closer to place a tender kiss on his friend's forehead.

"As am I, Archie," he murmured, "as am I."

**Author's Note:**

> I am new to the fandom and have by no means read everything that is out there yet. Sorry if this has been done before.


End file.
